


A Wing and a Prayer

by atamascolily



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen, Moths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 07:11:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamascolily/pseuds/atamascolily
Summary: Saruman imprisons Gandalf on the tower of Orthanc, but as long as Gandalf's daemon remains elusive, there's a flicker of hope.





	A Wing and a Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> Ground rules for this AU: Humans and hobbits have daemons; other races do not. The exception is that Wizards (enfleshed Maiar) do have daemons as part of their human-like physicality, but they can be separated from their daemons for long periods of time without harm, like witches in Pullman's universe. 
> 
> Daemons in this fic: 
> 
> Gandalf: Nauriel, Emperor Gum Moth, _Opodiphthera eucalypti_  
>  Saruman: daemon's name not given, leucistic Eurasian Eagle Owl, _Bubo bubo_
> 
> My Sindarin isn't great, but I believe a valid translation of "Nauriel" to be "Flame-daughter," a very appropriate name in context. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by kathkin's amazing [A Few Notes in the Song of Creation (A Lord of the Rings Daemon AU)](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031150) and the relevant sequences in Peter Jackson's films.

Saruman stood over Gandalf's prone body in the throne room of Orthanc, the jagged edges of his staff pointed at the wizard's throat as he pinned him to the floor with magic. His daemon, a stern eagle-owl with feathers as pale as his counterpart's long straight hair, perched coolly on his shoulder, an equally unreadable expression on her face. 

"Where is your daemon?" Saruman hissed. "She will join you here in purgatory until you accede to my will." 

Bloody and battered as he was, Gandalf shook his head in defiance. "I sent Nauriel far away from here on errands of my own, and glad I am of it now. You cannot take her by stealth now that your treachery is revealed. And without her, you cannot hope to force me to your will, Saruman." 

"Perhaps not," Saruman agreed, unmoved. "But you cannot be parted forever. Eventually, she will return to you--or you will both wither and die, ghosts of your former selves." A cruel smile split Saruman's face like a knife in dark gloom of the throne room of Orthanc. "Either way, Gandalf the Grey will no longer interfere with my plans. And perhaps by the time the One Ring is in my hands, I will have devised a fit punishment for you, should you still refuse to take the wiser course and join me. In the meantime--" 

He gestured with his staff, and Gandalf's body spun in circles on the floor, faster and faster. "--you may watch the show." 

Saruman flung the staff upward, and the wizard's body rose with it. With a startled scream, Gandalf was hurtled hundreds of feet into the air all the way through the gaping trapdoor to the very spires of Orthanc itself. 

With a thud, the trapdoor in the floor closed behind him--and with it, all hope of escape.

***

Gandalf lay on the cold black stone of the Orthanc tower, exposed open elements. 

No hope of flying here. No climbing. No staff. 

Sometimes Saruman came to talk to him, but mostly he was alone. He had often been alone before, but now there was not even the slightest flicker from Nauriel. Wherever his daemon was, she was too far away to draw on the link that bound them, and he was grateful for it. 

As long as she stayed away, he and Saruman were at a stalemate. The wizard might bind him and keep him prisoner, but could not command his spirit or his soul. 

The moon waxed and waned. clouds rose and fell and passed. he thought in the distance to the south he could see, every now and then, the faintest flicker of red from the lidless eye of Sauron, looking north and west from the Dark Tower. 

Orcs and men rose from the bowels of Orthanc. Trees fell into furnaces, hewed. The night air was alive with the reek of burning wood and molten metal and demented shrieks of laughter from caruousing orcs. 

Somewhere, Frodo was out there, with the One Ring - the spirit of Saruon's daemon, lost for a thousand years, imprisoned by deep magics in solid gold. Hopefully, Frodo had gotten the letter Gandalf had left with Barliman Butterbur at Bree a thousand lifetimes ago, and left Bag End far behind. Hopefully--

Huddled on the pinnacle of Orthanc, his grey robes pulled over his head in a vain effort to shield himself from the cold rain, Gandalf tried not to despair. 

***

Nauriel came on a moonless night covered by thick clouds, a pale white ghost on the wind, unnoticed by Saruman or his keen-eyed eagle-owl. Gandalf was half-asleep as her wingtips brushed his face, and had reached out by instinct alone to grab her before he woke fully and realized she had returned. 

"Olorin!" hissed Nauriel in agitation. He had so many names now, it never mattered which one she used, but she always called him the name of his youth in the West that was forgotten by all but a few. Even Saruman, cursed and blighted as he was, would never use it. "You're _hurting_ me!" 

"Sorry," he whispered, relaxing his grip to let her crawl over his open palm as he brought her close to his lips. He was afraid to speak too much or too loudly, lest Saruman become aware of her presence. "You must go at once. You're in grave danger here. Saruman--" 

"Has gone mad, yes." She fluttered forward, re-adjusting herself before settling down on her perch. "Even if I hadn't felt what he did to you from so far away, I would have known the moment I spied the fires of Orthanc from a distance. The stench of orcs and the burning carries far on the wind. Olorin, we must--" 

"Hush," he chastened. "There are more important matters afoot than our own safety. You were able to reach Aragorn--?" 

"Yes. He is on the move westward, hoping to intercept Frodo at Bree. He knows there is trouble in the south, and you are delayed, although I could offer no more than vague worries and fears from such a distance." 

Gandalf smiled. "It is enough. Now, before Saruman returns and finds you here, there is one other I would have you seek out--" 

A moment later, Gandalf released his hands and the moth flew free, soaring and diving on the wind for a single heartbeat, before she dipped below the edge of the tower and vanished from his sight. 

He had done what he could. Now, there was nothing to do but wait. 

***

There came a day not long afterward when all Saruman's patience was thrown aside. He came through the great stone trapdoor in the floor that could be opened only by the great black key at his belt, and slammed it behind him as his power forced Gandalf to the ground. Even as the Grey Wizard crumpled, he noticed the eagle-owl on Saruman's shoulder was ragged and molting, her formerly white feathers coming in jet black. 

Saruman had abandoned reason for madness and a lust for power, but he did not have the Ring yet. Nor was his knowledge complete. That was fortunate, Gandalf reminded himself. Saruman did not know that Nauriel was coming, swift on the wind to save him. He just had to hold out long enough for her to reach him--

"A friendship with Saruman is not lightly thrown aside," the other wizard snarled, flinging Gandalf across the tower rim with a jerk of his staff. 

Gandalf was forced to dangle head-first over the side, his armed pinned to his body, completely at Saruman's mercy. If he fell now, there would be no escape. Nauriel was close, so very close, but she wasn't here yet--

"One ill turn deserves another," Saruman continued, enjoying Gandalf's reaction. "It is over. Embrace the power of the Ring--" 

And then she was there, fluttering across Gandalf's face, singing her triumph in that soft sweet voice that only he could hear.

Saruman saw her, too. Even as his eyes widened in surprise, he quickly changed tactics. With another violent twist of the staff, he forced Gandalf forward, to lie prone at his feet. ""--Or embrace your own destruction." 

"Never," Gandalf whispered. 

"I have you. I have your daemon. It is over now, Gandalf. Join me or die." 

Gandalf slowly pushed himself to his feet. Saruman, overconfident to the last, allowed him that much freedom. Behind Saruman's shoulder, Nauriel hovered, watching, waiting, a wisp under the full moon.

_Not much longer now--_

"There is only one Lord of the Ring, Saruman--"

Even as he spoke, a vast shadow passed over the moon, too swift and too sudden for a cloud. Neither Saruman nor the eagle-owl, intent on what they thought was his surrender, turned to follow Gandalf's gaze as he watched it pass.

"--and he does not--share--POWER!"

An animal cry split the night as the shadow hurtled towards the tower of Orthanc. Before Saruman could react, Gandalf turned and leaped over the edge to meet it, falling, falling--

\--only to be caught by the giant eagle that Nauriel had summoned. Gwaihir the Wind-Lord, oldest and wisest of the eagles of the Misty Mountains, come to the Grey Pilgrim's aid at last. 

With a mighty flurry of wings, they were gone. 

***

Saruman stood on the tower for a long time, frozen in shock as his prisoner vanished over the horizon. The eagle-owl, too, lay still as death on his shoulder, rocked by the same righteous fury. 

"So you have chosen death," he said at last when he was capable of speech again. "So be it." 

The eagle-owl hissed her agreement. 

This turn of events was unfortunate, but he was Saruman the Many-Colored, and he would not be so easily defeated. He had miscalculated, yes, but he would try to see how this misstep could be played to his advantage. 

In the meantime, he must treat with the Eye of Mordor and stall for time. 

***

"Once again, I find you in a most awkward spot, Mithrandir," Gwaihir chuckled, a raspy inhuman sound that would have frozen the marrow of an ordinary man. "You seem to make a habit of perches you cannot get out of. If only your body was winged like the rest of your soul, you'd have no need to call for my assistance!" 

"My thanks, Lord of the Eagles," Gandalf whispered, as he clung to the Windlord's back. "Oft have I wished for her wings myself. Though I must say, 'tis indeed an advantage to be in two places at once. Not even you can match such a feat." 

"Indeed," Gwaihir agreed gravely. "Though I have not the strength to bear you across the wide swathe of the world on such short notice, I will not knowingly set you in the path of danger. If Saruman is no longer an ally, where is safe to go?" 

Nauriel, perched once more on Gandalf's shoulder, whispered something in his ear. The grey wizard nodded. 

"Rohan. Make for Rohan, my lord, and the golden hall of King Theoden at Edoras. The Rohirrim must know of their neighbor Saruman's treachery. And then I must ride north on his swiftest steed, for the fate of the world depends on it."

With mighty wingbeats, the eagle veered south and east, towards the wide plains of the horse-lords. "So be it." 

"And I, Gandalf?" Nauriel said at his side. "What is my task?" 

Gandalf smiled. "Our work is never over, light of my heart, but let us take what rest now that we may. Though we may part again on the morrow, for now, dear one, stay with me. Much have I missed thee in these dark days--with darker still to come, I fear, now that Saruman has turned against us. " 

They did not sleep that night aboard the eagle's back, but they lay quietly together as the stars wheeled in the heavens. Behind them, the moon set, and ahead of them, a faint light on the eastern horizon marked the return of the sun. They took what rest they could in each other's company, and prepared for the tasks of the day to come.


End file.
